


The Database

by Corona



Series: My Name is Benjamin [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), Depression, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Virmire, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corona/pseuds/Corona
Summary: A few days after Virmire, Benjamin calls Ashley's sister Lynn to show her her sister's entry on the database he has made: the database of everyone he has loved and lost.  With Ashley's passing, it is now at nearly 200 entries. In the process, Benjamin reveals to Lynn the sort of damage surviving both Mindoir and Akuze can have on a person's mental state.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! Please leave a kudos if you like and a comment even if you don't. Also, trigger warning for fairly extensive discussion of mental health issues, grief, and trauma and mentions of suicidal ideation.

A face appeared on the screen. Vaguely brown, with long and wavy dark hair and brown eyes, it looked mostly like Ashley's face, except it was younger and there were a few key differences, such as thinner eyebrows and lower cheekbones. But despite the differences, Benjamin found it somewhat difficult to look at, the more so for how bloodshot the eyes were and how gaunt and pale the face looked. He knew grief much better than most, and there could be no mistaking this.

"Commander Shepard?" the woman asked, surprise evident in her thick voice. She made an abrupt attempt to try to make herself look more presentable, but her efforts were largely in vain.

"Yes," Benjamin said. "I presume I'm talking to Lynn Williams?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, you are. Was—was there something you needed?"

"There was," he affirmed. "I apologise for the timing. I know it's only been a few days."

A few days since Virmire. A few days since he had been forced to choose between Kaidan and Ashley. A few days since he had watched as the nuke had gone off. So it had taken Saren's facility with it and maybe set him back— _maybe_ —but it had taken Ashley, too. There hadn't even been a body to recover. Even if there had been, he doubted they could have recovered her.

 _I don't regret a thing._ The words echoed through his head again, and Benjamin repressed a sigh and the vague urge to close his eyes. Whenever he did, he saw her in his mind, joining the ranks of the dead, the dead he had known and the dead he had loved. _You may have not, Ash, but I do._

A few days, too, since he had called her family. He would send a formal notification of her death soon, of course, but in this case, he had felt telling them himself was necessary. They had been devastated, all of them, and though Benjamin had far too much experience with comforting bereaved siblings and knew too well what it was like to lose one, it had been difficult for him to help. He had been too exhausted and the wounds had been too raw.

The wounds were still raw now, not a week later, as they had to be. In time, for him, they would heal and join all the others as scars. Perhaps the same would be said for the Williams sisters.

"It's… it's fine," Lynn said hesitantly. "What do you need, Commander?"

"I just sent an email to you," Benjamin told her, getting right down to business, as was his wont. He felt it would be smoother, better, that way. "When you open it, you'll find a link. Open the link."

Lynn nodded, looking confused but saying nothing. Her gaze became more focused as she moved to evidently open her email. He waited patiently, watching her, looking for any change in her expression, any sign that he might have to terminate the call and try again later. She gave no such sign. It reminded him of when he'd met Ashley on Eden Prime. She had been facing certain death, her whole unit had been lost, and yet she had struggled on against the geth anyway, with hardly a crack showing in her façade. He felt his stomach twist, but the sensation was slight—was dull and muted. It had become so over the years.

Benjamin saw the moment when she opened the link he had sent her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, and then she furrowed her brow and peered in at the screen like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. After maybe ten or so seconds, she looked back at him.

"A database? Commander, I don't understand. What is this?"

"It's something I made years ago after I finished training," Benjamin explained. "It's mostly for myself, but you're not the first person I've shared it with. You wouldn't recognise most of the names, but in this database are my family and friends from Mindoir, who all died in the attack, and my unit on Akuze, and everyone else I know who's died in action or as a result of my actions. Once a week, I go through and I read as many entries as I am capable of handling."

Lynn looked amazed. She glanced away from him to what he presumed was the database again. "Commander," she said in an awed tone, as she seemed to scroll through it, "there must be well over one hundred names on this list. How…?"

"It's actually closer to two hundred," Benjamin said. "My family and my unit at Akuze alone make up ninety-one of the entries. Then there are my friends from Mindoir, and their families, and all the people I knew. There are the men and women I've served with who have died in action who weren't at Akuze. There are the innocent civilians I was able to find names for who got caught in the crossfire.  There is… anyone and everyone, basically. It's just a way to remind myself of… of what I'm living for. Your sister was the most recent entry."

Not just her—the salarians of Captain Kirrahe's team who didn't get out, including the ones who had been indoctrinated, had also made it into the database. But that was not entirely relevant to the current discussion.

A weak and hesitant smile tugged at the corners of Lynn's lips. It was a smile most unlike Ashley's, though he, of course, did not know what the woman's smile was like normally. "This is incredible, Commander," she told him, in the same awed tone. "I'm glad you decided to share it with me. You want me to look at Ashley's page?"

"Yes," Benjamin said. "I put as much as I could on it. Her basic details, of course, and the names of her family, going back to General Williams. But I also put in stuff that we talked about—her religious beliefs, quotes from her favourite poetry, her dreams, her previous assignments—anything that I could remember. I want you to check to make sure the details are correct, and, if there's any more I can add, I want you to tell me. I can't include everything, but other small things that you think should be in there—it would help immensely."

He could see tears starting in Lynn's eyes, but she nodded, smiling the same weak smile. "Yeah, I can do that," she said. "I can call up Abby and Sarah too. They'll have plenty more to offer."

"Of course," he said. "I'd appreciate it. It's organised by surname; Ashley's right near the bottom." He leant back in his chair.

In silence, Benjamin watched as Lynn no doubt found Ashley's page and began to scroll through it. Her occasional reactions sparked something warm, but still very dull and muted—as everything was with him—in his chest. Sometimes, she smiled, more strongly and more warmly. Other times, she let out a short chuckle. Still other times, she nodded solemnly. Every now and then, she murmured something along the lines of, "Sounds like Ash, all right." Occasionally, she furrowed her brow, looking intrigued, but not concerned. She had a myriad of reactions, but none of them seemed insulted to him, which meant he had hopefully got all the details correct.

Eventually, Lynn looked up and offered him a smile. It was stronger than before, much stronger, though it was also more obviously strained by her grief. "Commander, I…" She paused, momentarily lost for words. Benjamin inclined his head slowly, prompting her. She swallowed thickly and then continued. "This is wonderful. I didn't know you knew my sister so well. I'm glad you did. And I'm even gladder you would go to the trouble of making this for her. _Thank you._ " Her voice broke, and she dabbed at her eyes. "Thank you so much."

"It's the least I can do," Benjamin said quietly. "Your sister deserves to be remembered and honoured forever. Is there anything I can add?"

"I can think of a few things," Lynn admitted. "But I'd like to speak to Abby and Sarah about it first. I'll give them the link and we can talk about it. I think they'll be just as happy to see this as I am. Once we have our ideas, I'll email them to you… along with whatever else they say. Is that all right?"

Benjamin nodded. "Absolutely. Here, I'll give you my email—"

Once that was done, he sat back in his chair again, facing Lynn. The woman eyed him carefully for a moment before asking, "This must be very hard on you, Commander, losing one of the crew. Especially as you had to choose. How are you holding up?"

He blew out a sharp breath through his nose. "That… well. This is going to make me come across like a complete psychopath, but hear me out. I do feel grief for Ash. I do feel… I do regret that I couldn't save both her and Lieutenant Alenko. I do keep wondering if there was something I could have done. But… I don't feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest, so to speak. Nowhere near that. It's…" Benjamin sighed. "You have to understand, I've seen a lot over the course of my life. You know my history."

Lynn grimaced but nodded. "Oh, yes. You said you lost your whole family and everyone you knew on Mindoir and your whole unit on Akuze. That has to wreck a man. I'm sorry about it, Commander."

Benjamin waved a hand. "Well, the point is, it did wreck me. There's only so much horror you can take, only so much grieving you can do for _ninety-one_ people, for a number that just keeps rising, before… before something snaps inside you. After Mindoir, everything felt… felt numb and dead inside my chest. All my feelings, every—everything. And it only got worse after Akuze. I go to counselling, and I'm on meds for clinical depression and PTSD, but I doubt I'll ever get beyond the level of where I'm at now, which is really only _functioning_. Even with the meds, I barely… I barely feel at all anymore. The galaxy goes on, and shit keeps happening, and most of it is stuff that could break a man ten times over, but I… it can't break me. It can't break something that's already broken. At least, I like to think so."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I feel grief for your sister. But it is quiet, only barely there at all. In the early days, when I was grieving my family, yes, it was the worst sort of agony. But as the years went on, as more and more people died… when Akuze happened, it just… stopped being like that. It's not even numbness anymore. There's something there, but it's dull and painless, and I can handle it easily. But it's the same for everything else I feel. Happiness, anger, jealousy, frustration… they feel different, enough for me to tell which is which. But I barely feel them at all. And that's just how it is. In short, I am holding up, very well in fact, but only because the grief and the regret are hardly there. To tell the truth, after all that's been going on, after what just happened, and after whatever's coming… it'll probably get worse. Not that I could have it any other way, I've been living with this for so long."

Lynn looked utterly horrified. "Jesus Christ," she breathed. "Commander… if that's the case—forgive my asking—but how do you keep on going?"

Benjamin grimaced. "I don't know. Like I said, that database helps remind me what I'm fighting for. There is something inside me, I think, that tells me I need to keep living, and I listen to it. I think it's the only… how to describe this… the only part of me left that hasn't been as badly touched by everything. Without it, I'd have killed myself long ago. And… the crew…" He breathed out. "The crew needs me, especially now. I can't fail in my duty to them, or to the Alliance. I promised we'd stop Saren Arterius, and I do not break my promises." He did not mention that now they had something even bigger to stop, even worse than Saren. No, as much as he did want out of life, out of existence, he knew he was going to be staying around for a long time to come. It was the duty he'd sworn to do, after all, and he owed it to everyone.

Ashley's sister slowly nodded, not looking at all reassured, and rightly so. After a silence, she said, "I understand, Commander. And… I hope you can eventually find something to give you peace and joy. Despite everything."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But—one more thing, Lynn. Do you… blame me? For not choosing your sister?"

There was another silence, a longer one. Then, Lynn admitted, "A part of me does, yes. But how can I not? That's human nature. But no, Commander, I don't entirely blame you. You had to make a choice, and you chose the Lieutenant. I know if you had chosen Ashley, his family would be going through the same thing right now, so it's… it's pointless. No, Commander, apart from that one part of me, a small part, I don't blame you. And I don't forgive you because you have nothing to be forgiven for."

Benjamin let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in, and his muscles relaxed. Within him, he felt the faintest twinge of relief, every bit as dull and muted as his feelings had been for thirteen years. "Thank you, Lynn. That takes a lot off my chest. I need to get back to work now, but I look forward to getting your email. And thank you again for your help, and I wish you good luck and much happiness in the future. I know Ashley would want that for you."

Lynn smiled again, a little tearfully. "Thanks, Commander. I promise I'll have that email to you soon, and you're very welcome. Like I said before, I hope you can find peace and joy, too. I know how much Ashley liked you. She'd want it for you as much as she would want it for us, her sisters."

His mouth twitched a little, but that was the closest he could get to a smile. "Of course. Goodbye now, Lynn."

"Goodbye, Commander."

With that, he ended the call.


End file.
